


Glimpse Through the Screen

by andquitefrankly



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, and i feel like it is not, and i might do a better hitchcock au, and pepper, and so it's only slightly like rear window, based off of Rear Window, but it's not terrible, except somewhere something went horribly awry, frostiron fest, in that tony is super creepy spying on his neighbors, the avengers are all in here for like three seconds, this was supposed to be amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andquitefrankly/pseuds/andquitefrankly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Locked up in his penthouse apartment with a broken leg, Tony Stark is going mad with boredom. He turns to his fellow neighbors for entertainment, abusing Jarvis' eyes by spying into their homes. He grows attached to them all, but finds himself intrigued with Sex on Legs, the man who lives in apartment 75 C.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glimpse Through the Screen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batwynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batwynn/gifts).



> Written for the Frostiron Fest. I got Request #15, and chose prompt 1. Which asked for Tony and Loki in any form of Hitchcock's films. Was going to be a North by Northwest fic, then decided on To Catch a Thief, and then settled for Rear Window.  
> This fic is slightly au'ish, in that it totally ignores Thor 2, and Iron Man 3. So it's pre-T2 and IM3. Anyways... yeah. Enjoy!

Tony Stark was not a creep. Honestly, he just wanted that cleared up. Was it creepy that he had video surveillance all around this tower? No. It was normal. And was it creepy for him to check up on his team while he was forced to spend his time on one floor of his penthouse just because he so happened to break his leg five weeks ago while fighting Doom?

No. It was completely and totally normal.

And if he just so happened to pop in on the other tenants of his tower, to see how they were enjoying their new living arrangements, it was just him being a good landlord. Honestly. To think that he, Tony Stark, was a creep, was beyond comprehension.

He held a tablet in his lap, watching Steve fry some eggs, while the rest of the team sat at the communal table, plates before them, eagerly anticipating their breakfast. Tony couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t really matter. He just enjoyed watching.

Tony set the tablet aside and rolled himself to his own fridge, opening it up and frowning at the empty appliance. Pepper hadn’t done groceries. Maybe he could call Steve and ask for some food…

But then he’d lecture Tony about how it was unhealthy for him to lock himself away. And then Tony would argue that if he had his way, he would have built himself a tricked out wheelchair with turbo rockets, could fly, and come with the Iron Man suit, but Fury and Pepper had cornered him and locked him away.

He wasn’t that reckless. The chance of him breaking another leg while he recovered wasn’t very likely. But they insisted. And when three eyes glare down at you, it’s kind of hard to argue. Especially when you can’t run away.

So rather than visiting his teammates, he pouted in his own apartments. If he wasn’t allowed in his lab, then what was the point in life?

“I’m so bored!” Tony yelled at the ceiling, wheeling around in circles, praying that he’d get motion sickness, if only to add some excitement in his life.

“Sir,” interrupted Jarvis. “The gentleman on the 75th floor has returned home.”

Tony stopped his spinning, a giant smile plastered to his face. Okay. So maybe he was a little bit creepy.

He picked up his tablet once more as Jarvis fed him the live stream of apartment 75 C. “Good night?” Tony asked out loud, chuckling as the man tipped over his sofa and lay there, unmoving. There was a bright red hickey on the man’s neck and Tony whooped loudly. “A very good night. Jarvis, send him a gift basket.”

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis responded.

The elevator door opened and Pepper walked out, a plate of steaming eggs and bacon in hand as she approached. Tony smiled at her, more than pleased that he wasn’t actually going to starve today. He carefully tucked the tablet behind his back, hoping that she wouldn’t notice what he was up to.

She stopped midstride and Tony knew he was caught. He sighed as he put the tablet back on his lap. “Before you say anything – ” Tony tried to defend himself.

“You promised,” Pepper cut in. “We agreed it was creepy.”

“You agreed, I just sort of sat there and took the abuse. I’m a cripple, Pep. I can’t defend myself,” Tony argued.

Pepper rolled her eyes, placing his food on a table. “Good luck, cripple,” she told him before striding away. She should have known better than to expect Tony to listen to her.

Once Pepper was gone, Tony struggled for his plate, standing on one leg while the other stuck out in its plastered atrocity.

Seriously. He could make this so much better. He could at least put wheels on the cast. Damn Fury. And Pepper. And those Avengers jerks. “Teammates, my ass,” Tony muttered, stuffing his face. “Jarvis, my man. Transfer to the TV.”

Tony wheeled himself to the living room and managed to sit himself on the couch where he could comfortably spy on everyone. At the moment, the man in 75 C, or Mr. Sex on Legs, was passed out on his couch, and so Tony switched it to apartment 32 A.

Mrs. Pack of Cats was feeding her lovelies, kissing their faces and snuggling close. Disgusted, Tony switched to The New Parents, followed closely by The Model, Mr. Bubble, and Miss Ghost Whisperer.

Alright, so maybe he was a creep. He was bored. And it was nice to see people go about their daily lives. Was this what he looked like to Jarvis? Just some strange person doing things that made sense in his mind. It was a bit like a social experiment.

The tenants all knew that Jarvis monitored their apartments. It was in the lease. He monitored for suspicious activity, in case of danger or fire or burglary and so forth. Of course, no one really thought he would go in and abuse his power. But he was invested in their lives now.

Sex on Legs was a gorgeous man, unbelievably tall, with light blonde curls and greenish eyes. He spent most of his days aimlessly wandering the rooms of his apartment (when he wasn’t at work), before wandering out at night, usually coming in at odd hours (or not at all). He was unbelievably unhappy, no matter how he tried to find something. Anything to appease himself.

Pack of Cats was a middle aged woman with over a dozen cats. They swarmed the place, but she never cared. She doted on them like children, and Tony felt a kindling with her. He was sure he looked just as insane around Dummy and Butterfingers.

The New Parents held a soft spot in Tony’s heart. When he couldn’t sleep, off he’d pop to check in on them, listening to the lullabies they sang their child, and holding a vigil on the tiny babe when he managed to actually let his parents sleep.

And The Model was just like every woman Tony had slept with. But just like Sex on Legs, their life wasn’t as fulfilling as Tony thought it would be. Parties and drinking and men, but still, unsatisfied.

Mr. Bubble was a poor fellow who was too afraid to leave his home. Tony just wanted to make sure he wasn’t alone. No one should be alone.

And Miss Ghost Whisperer spoke to herself constantly. Out loud and without fear. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but she seemed to pretend to be different people, and it was enjoyable to watch. Maybe she was an actress, or a writer. She smiled a lot, and didn’t seem to mind that she more or less looked like a crazy person.

Tony liked all of them. They were a part of him now, and  Tony wondered what would happen once his cast was off. Would he just let himself forget about them? These wonderful people that helped him stay the boredom.

* * *

He jolted awake, the sudden feeling that someone was watching him. He peered over his couch, around the room, under the coffee table, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

Strange, Lachlann thought to himself, hoisting himself over the couch and trudging into the kitchen. He ran a hand through his curls as he yawned. He pulled out a kettle and sat it on the stove, the water from his last boil sitting in the pot. He should probably dump it, but he was too tired to care.

He had gone out last night. Again. What for, he wasn’t sure. He just felt as if he had to get out. It was stifling in this apartment.

There were times when he felt like lighting fire to the entire place. Let the building go up in flames. It would be a beautiful sight. But then he’d shake his head, and the thought would be gone, like it had never been there in the first place.

Lachlann grabbed an orange off his counter and began peeling it. He wasn’t particularly peckish, but it gave him something to do, and he felt he was skinny enough as it was.

There was a small pain on the side of his neck and Lachlann glanced at his reflection off of the toaster. Damn. He hated when his conquests marked him.

He put a hand to his neck and closed his eyes. He felt the pain recede and when he studied his reflection once again, the mark was gone. Lachlann grinned. Maybe being different wasn’t too bad.

* * *

Tony stared at his television screen in awe.

How – Impossible!

He replayed the scene over again, hoping that was suffering illusions. But no, Sex on Legs disappeared his hickey.

Was it magic? Or was he a mutant?

The thoughts ran rampantly through Tony’s mind. “Jarvis,” Tony said, “Who’s living in 75 C?”

* * *

He remembered waking up here.

One moment he was in a dream, and then suddenly he was standing in the living room, in a place that his brain registered as his home, and yet it felt new. Like he had seen it for the first time. His life was set in motion, and he didn’t recall when it had begun.

Lachlann liked to think as that  morning as the beginning. Everyone had an end, and perhaps he had just come from one.

His life was too… perfect. If that was the word. Like he was placed here and expected to behave. He went to work, he came back. He paid his bills and his taxes and he recycled and took public transportation like a good New Yorker. He always put too much mustard on his hot dogs and tended to wander into the mythology section in the library. Lachlann had his strange quirks.

And when he discovered that he had magic. Well, he most certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone. Perhaps his magic had backfired on him. Or he was hiding out from someone who wanted to kill him. He could be a wanted man.

No matter the reasons, Lachlann kept quiet and to himself, hiding in the shadows.

And that was the only thing that felt the same.

* * *

Tony went through the files Jarvis supplied him once again. Lachlann Oberley was 32 years old. He was 6’1 and had lived in apartment 75 C for three years. He moved in some months after New York happened. He worked as a personal assistant to a small banker, who used Lachlann merely as a fetch boy, grabbing coffee and making copies, as if he were some cheap intern. His salary wasn’t even close to being able to afford the monthly rent, yet his checks were always on time.

Old money, perhaps. Though there was no proof of family. No birth certificate, no school records, nothing prior to his moving in.

He just appeared out of nowhere.

“Show me Sex on Legs,” Tony ordered Jarvis, the television flickering on just in time to catch Lachlann Oberley hand a glass of wine to a gentleman standing in the hall. “Sound?” Tony asked, hopefully.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jarvis answered.

Tony cursed under his breath. “Lip read.”

Words quickly appeared at the bottom of the screen.

* * *

Lachlaan found his guest to be absolutely dull and ignorant. Not to mention that he had a habit of chewing with his mouth open. Lachlann had the urge to grab a fork and stab the man’s throat.

But Lachlaan was a fairly good actor. Richard Turner had no idea that Lachlaan was plotting his demise over dinner.

In fact, if any of the social cues Lachlann was shooting him now, Mr. Turner would never know.

The things Lachlaan put up with for a bit of relaxation. Honestly.

“It’s not the best year,” Lachlann admitted, handing the glass over to Richard. “But it’s all I have.”

Rich took a sip and hummed. “Not too bad.”

“Good,” Lachlann replied, with a feral smile. He approached Richard, running his hands over his coat lapel. “Comfortable?” he asked.

The other man leaned in and pressed wet kiss to the corner of Lachlann’s mouth. “Not quite.”

Lachlann took the glass and set it on his coffee table, before grabbing hold of Richard’s coat and pulling him towards his bedroom. “I think I can fix that.”

* * *

“Stop!” Tony blurted out, watching in horror as Lachlann led some obvious jerkwad into his bedroom. God, how could the guy have such terrible taste in men?

That man was obviously an asshole.

Tony turned off his television and wheeled himself to his own bedroom, where he managed to hobble into his bed.

“Sir,” Jarvis interrupted Tony’s mope. “Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t continue spying on Mr. Oberley.”

Tony mumbled out an agreement, but still, he wondered.

* * *

The days passed and Lachlann spent them locked inside his apartment. He wandered from room to room, staring at everything, and trying to remember when he bought them. He tried to recall if any of the books were gifts from family or friends; if he had stolen his favorite mug from someone; if perhaps he regretted that rug almost immediately after purchasing it, or if the hostility grew over time.

He didn’t find any answers.

So he sat curled up in his couch and quietly repeated words to himself. He didn’t know what it meant, or if it was even a true language, but it comforted him. He felt more like himself. He of course wondered why that was. What secret language could mean so much to him?

There were times when he imagined himself laying in a tree house, his siblings (sometimes older, sometimes younger; his fantasies always varied) lying beside him, making up this language so their parents couldn’t overhear their secrets. So they couldn’t discover their schemes or mischief.

They were loely fantasies. But Lachlann knew they were just that.

Nothing more.

* * *

An alarm went off and Tony grumbled in his sleep. Lights flickered but yet Tony persisted, throwing the blankets over his head. He was not getting up for anything less than a global disaster. And even then someone had to give him a cup of coffee first.

Not that he’d be needed if there was a disaster. Damn leg.

One more week. And then he was free.

“I apologize,” Jarvis said, sounding rather unrepentant, “but you insisted I wake you should the gentleman in 75 C do anything, as you put it, ‘freaky deeky.’”

“What he do?” Tony muttered into his pillow. He better have grown three heads, because Tony was not in the mood.

“He appears to be… flickering,” Jarvis answered.

Tony sat up, quick as could be. “What?”

The television turned on and there was Lachlann, sitting on his couch, flickering like a string of Christmas lights. It was brief; almost indiscernible if not for the strange way his hair seemed to change color and his features became more angular.

“Freeze it, Jarvis,” Tony ordered, throwing off his sheets and hobbling to his wheelchair.

Seriously, they could at least have given him an electric chair.

Jarvis froze the image as Tony moved closer. “Show me frame by frame, J,” Tony said. “I want to see what this sucker’s got.”

Jarvis played the feed frame by frame, stopping only when Tony yelped, “Holly shit!” He quickly wheeled himself around and out the door.

* * *

To say that Tony Stark didn’t know how to make an entrance, would be a complete lie. Take for instance this very morning.

The Avengers were gathered in the joint kitchen, watching Clint flip pancakes, when the elevator doors opened and an underwear clad Tony wheeled himself in, hair sticking up and a crazed look in his eye.

“Loki’s living in Apartment 75 C,” he blurted out.

His teammates blinked, staring at him in disbelief.

Bruce was the first to break the silence, stepping up and putting a reassuring hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Is he?” he asked.

Tony nodded furiously. “YES!” He reached into one of the pockets of his chair and pulled out a tablet. A few swipes of his fingers and there on the screen was Lachlaan, eyes closed and perfectly normal. Tony grew pale and tried rewinding the footage, but it was unchanging.

He looked up and Natasha’s usually emotionless face was laced with just a hint of pity. Not cool. Tony growled in frustration. He unleashed an accusatory finger at the five of them. “I am not crazy,” he told them.

“You’ve been locked up for like six weeks, dude,” Clint said. “You were bound to see things.” He glanced at the tablet and grinned. “Though you’re probably seeing more things than you ought to. Nice to see you’re a stalker.”

“Chatter on, bird brain,” Tony told him. “Who says I haven’t been watching you. I’ve got some dirty secrets I’ve been saving for a rainy day. So don’t try me.”  
Clint shut up quickly, turning his attention back to the pancakes.

“My brother is serving his punishment,” Thor responded. “You need not worry yourself with him.”

Nice to see The Avengers were on high alert. “Alright,” Tony muttered. “Whatever.” He wheeled himself back into the elevator, eyeing his teammates suspiciously. Once the doors closed, his teammates glanced at one another.

“What if he’s telling the truth,” Steve asked, feeling slightly guilty that he hadn’t tried to defend his friend.

“Everyone whose allowed inside the tower is screened and double screened,” Natasha informed him. “There is no Loki.”

“He’s just losing his shit cause he can’t do anything,” Clint smirked, just before a pancake landed on the ground.

* * *

The moment Pepper stepped off the elevator and was greeted with Tony Stark’s bright smile, she had the sudden urge to hightail it out of there. That smile meant nothing but trouble.

“Pep, my golden goose,” Tony greeted.

Yeah. Trouble. Definitely trouble. “Whatever it is,” Pepper said. “I’m not doing it.”

Tony’s face fell. “Pepper,” he whined, breaking out the puppy eyes.

And that was how Pepper Potts found herself on the 75th floor of Stark Tower, her heels clacking against the tile floor of the hallway, announcing her presence to the silence. She had Tony in her ear, jabbering on and on, and she tried her best to ignore him.

“What am I doing, exactly?” Pepper asked, pausing some feet away from apartment C.

“Just knock on the door and see if he’s okay.”

Pepper stared up at the camera in the hallway, unimpressed. She knew Tony could see her. “I’m not doing that.”

“You already agreed!” Tony argued. “Look, just knock on the door, and if he answers, then let me know if you think he looks in any way familiar.”

Pepper rubbed her temples. She was not paid enough to deal with this man.

She cautiously approached the door and knocked.

Nothing.

Well… that was anticlimactic. She turned back to the camera and shrugged her shoulders. “Again,” Tony insisted in her ear.

Pepper knocked again, louder than before. Still nothing. “Alright. I did what you asked. Can I go now?”

With a sigh and a curse, Tony muttered, “He’s just sitting on the couch. Why doesn’t he – ”

Suddenly there was a loud crash and Pepper stumbled backwards as Lachlann Oberley’s door burst open, flying backwards and plastering itself to the wall.

It was caked with ice, and swirls of frozen air hissed from inside the apartment. Ice grew slowly over the ground and Pepper pressed herself against the wall, her heels slipping on the floor. “Anytime you feel like helping,” Pepper hissed into her earpiece, “would be greatly appreciated.”

The hall was unnaturally silent as Pepper waited. She was too frightened to move, and besides, her heels were stuck in the ice, and she didn’t trust this cold with her feet. There was a slight rumble and she froze, staring at the doorless apartment.

This was the last time she did anything for Tony.

The elevator doors opened and Tony shivered. “Wow, it’s cold,” he said.

Pepper turned to glare at him. “I really hate you,” she told him.

“I know,” he replied, carefully maneuvering himself into the frozen hall. Once he reached Pepper he grinned. “If I can do it, you can do it.”

She punched him hard in the chest before balancing herself on his chair. She pulled out her shoes from the ice and slowly worked her way towards the elevator. She paused halfway to glance at Tony who continued sitting in the hall, staring at the apartment. “What are you doing?” she asked, half hysterical and in serious need of a spa day.

“Where is he?” Tony wondered, wheeling himself towards the apartment.

“No!” Pepper called, but it was too late. Tony had disappeared into the flat, and she was not going to go back.

* * *

“Hello?” Tony called as he glanced around the hall. Ice was growing on the walls and floor, snow lightly dusting every surface.

There was a rustle and Tony quickly turned around, looking for the source. “Loki?” Tony whispered, hoping that he was wrong.

“How do you know my name?”

Tony spun around once more, looking for the source of the voice, but seeing nothing. This was something out of his worst nightmares. “Lucky guess,” Tony answered, shivering. “Neat trick, this.”

Silence.

Great. Did he insult him already? Some people are so sensitive.

“You’re the one who’s been watching me,” Loki said.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Tony replied.

“No you’re not.”

“Okay, I’m not,” Tony admitted. “But in my defense I was bored.”

A crunch of ice, and a gust of cold air against Tony’s neck caused goose bumps to rise. He stood still, hoping not to further entice Loki. If it really was him.

"Why?"

"Dude, have you seen my leg?" Tony hit his damn cast. Why else would he be bored? 

There was a growl and Tony suddenly regretted the sarcasm. "Why. Were. You. Watching. Me," Loki bit out, the temperature dropping significantly. Tony saw ice beginning to crawl over his plastered leg, swirling patterns Tony couldn't distinguish. 

"Why are you living in my tower?" Tony shot back. Seriously, the nerve of the guy. This destruction was definitely coming out of Loki's deposit. 

A crunch of snow and he turned his head in the sound's direction, startled. There was no one there. This was just a little freaky. First the guy's living a normal life in his tower and now he's doing a fantastic impression of the North Pole. Got it. All powerful sorceror or whatever. But Tony would definitely appreciate it if the god showed his face and stopped with the weird ice.

"I asked first," was Loki's response.

Really? "What are we, first graders?" Tony asked, more than a little peeved. He was cold. He did not have time for this. He should have just called the Avengers and let them kick Loki's ass. This was all just a bit anticlimactic.

"I could feel you," Loki whispered, more to himself than to Tony. "The tower. It hums." Another crunch of ice, but this time Tony remained still. Loki wouldn't let him see him anyway. "Even now. I can feel you."

Then there was a freezing hand, the color of saphire and marked with lines, pressed on the arc reactor, casing the device with ice. Tony could feel his heart clenching, his lungs trying to draw in as much air as possible. Tony tried to claw at the hand, but it was bone chilling and stung on contact. He could feel the frostbite and he stopped almost immediately. What the hell?

"It woke me."

And suddenly Loki was gone, the ice and snow melting, the cold temperature quickly rising.

Tony gulped as he stared at the empty apartment. It was as if no one had ever lived here. “That was the freakiest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

* * *

A week later, Tony got his cast removed and life happily returned to normal. He was able to walk and run and go down to his workshop, and sneak into places without feeling like a useless octopus.

Thor had returned home suddenly, the day after Tony’s creepy run in with Loki, and Tony couldn’t help but want to sing, “I told you so!” over and over. He didn’t, though. Because he was a mature adult.

Okay, that was not true. But he didn’t because everyone else was a hundred percent sure Loki was locked away somewhere serving his time and Tony wasn’t exactly sure that what he witnessed wasn’t some strange delusion. A shared delusion, but a delusion just the same.

It was as he was down in the workshop, elbow deep in his Roadster that he heard the soft crackling of ice, growing along the walls and floors. The temperature dropped significantly and Tony pulled himself out of his car to glance around room.

Ice surrounded him and he knew, then, that maybe it wasn’t a delusion.

There was a soft green glow atop one of his work benches and Tony stared in wonder as a small box appeared.

Then once again, the temperature returned to normal, and the ice melted, the steady drips echoing throughout the workshop.

Tony cautiously approached the work bench to find a note card with flowing, yet neat print, laying atop an emerald green box.

**My debt is repaid.**

Tony set the note aside to look at the box. It didn’t seem like much, but there was no latch or key hole. A puzzle, then.

He smiled softly to himself. “That son of a bitch,” he cursed, setting the box atop a work table, and waking up Jarvis.

Maybe he wasn’t as much as a creep as he thought he was. I mean, he got a gift. And gifts rocked. Particularly if they were from space aliens who needed some serious therapy. 

The Avengers alarm rang, and Tony knew that it was going to be Loki. He called his suit to him and was out the tower in seconds, knowing that when he returned, he had a puzzle to solve. 


End file.
